Just Another Piece in the Game
by 67OtakuGirl24X3
Summary: Gavin Midman, a 16 year old boy from District 12, has been selected to partake in the 72nd annual Hunger Games. All his life, he'd just been another close-to-worthless citizen of Panem. Now, he's just another piece in the Capitol's sick games. ...Isn't he? Reviews are much appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, honey, you look SO handsome! The spitting image of your father," crooned Mother. Without opening my mouth, I sighed quietly, giving a nod to my head. How did I look like Papa? I suppose there are some mutual facial features, but with my dirty blonde hair and green-blue eyes so similar to Mother's, there's no immediate resemblance. No, it's my sister Holly that inherited the reddish-brown locks and hazel eyes of Papa. Normally, she wasn't much of a looker; today, however, was an exception. Her hair was combed, washed three times, and done up in a high ponytail with a red ribbon.

Of course, I had cleaned up for The Reaping as well. My long, silky bangs had been slicked back to reveal my forehead. Around my neck was a faded black tie, worn from hanging in a closet all year except for this one annual event. I was also wearing a freshly ironed white button down shirt with black dress pants, although on my feet were the same patched boots I wore every day. I gulped quietly, turning away from my reflection in the mirror to gaze out the cracked bedroom window. Somber people were flooding into the streets… It was time to go.

We left our home in a single file line: me at the front, Holly close behind, then Papa holding one 2 year old, proceeded by Mother holding another. I loved my twin siblings, yet I hated them at the same time. They were not planned: they seemed to just _appear _one day. As a 14 year old with only a singular 12 year old sister, I had it in my mind that my family was done grow. Yet there I was, with a mom telling me she'd be having another baby. How incredibly better off we would have been without the twins… Making no more than anybody else in our coal mining District, my parents could barely afford to take care of themselves.

Just like everyone else, my family came to a halt in the center of town. A too-wide-to-be-legitimate smile was plastered on Mother's face as she gave me a little shove toward the boys aged 12 to 18. I reached to give Holly's bony hand a reassuring squeeze before heading off, only to have her yank herself away and sweep off to the other girls. I made a sound that was half a groan, half a sigh, and melted in with the possible male Tributes.

Effie Trinket tapped a microphone up on stage, adjusting her hideous lime green wig with her free hand. She began her speech… but I didn't hear a word she spoke. Here I was, my name being submitted for the fifth year in a row, yet I was still shaking in my boots. Surely I wasn't going to be chosen… I couldn't be, with people like Gale Hawthorne among us. I mean, at the rate he's going, the poor chap will most likely have his name in the drawing 50 times before he turns 18- that is, if he lives until then.

"As always, ladies first!" chimed Effie Trinket. My eyes flickered back up to the stage. How long had it been since I last averted my attention? Surely it had been a few minutes, if they'd already shown that god awful video they did every year…. She stuck her manicured hand into the glass bowl teeming with slips of paper, her fingers searching around for a moment. Seemingly satisfied, she pulled out a piece. She cleared her throat unnecessarily. "This year's female Tribute representing District 12 shall be…" There was an overly dramatic pause during which you probably could hear a pin drop. "…Holly Midman!"

My heart gave an unnatural shudder. "_What?_" I cried out. Everybody's eyes flicked to me, but only for a moment: my sister was the main focus now. Gradually, as if everything was in slow motion, the other girls made a path for Holly to walk over. Their faces showed looks of sympathy, but their eyes danced with relief.

"Come now, dear, don't be shy!" Effie purred. Looking like she'd been slapped across the face, Holly trudged step-by-step up to the stage. Effie patted her on the shoulder, a revoltingly bright smile on her painted lips. "Now whoever shall the boys be?"

This time, I truly held my breath, which wasn't all that hard to do, since my body seemed to have stopped working. Once again, Effie took more time than needed digging in the bowl until she grasped her choice. A terrifying mixture of shock and pleasure seeped into her face. "My, look what we have here! This is one of the first times in Hunger Games history, if I'm not mistaken, that the two Tributes selected have been _siblings!_" Siblings? Oh dear God, no… It couldn't be… But it was. Effie sang my name out loud and clear: "Gavin Midman!"

Once more, a deadly silence surrounded the area. I stood statue still, as if waiting for someone to volunteer to replace me. That was impossible, though: I was close to nobody but my parents, siblings, and teachers. Nobody would care enough to replace me… Nobody would die for me… With a shuddering breath, I made my way up to the stage, my legs feeling like they were made out of lead.

"Well, there you have it! The fine pair of sibling Tributes standing here for the 72nd annual Hunger Games! Shake hands, darlings," Effie chimed. How could any one human being be so excited to know that a brother and sister would have to kill each other? I put my hand out dazedly, Holly glaring daggers as if this whole thing was my fault. She took my hand stiffly, her eyes not losing contact with my own. Effie giggled. "Lovely! Happy Hunger Games, dears, and may the odds me ever in your favor!"

Holly has this way of always convincing people to side with her simply by arching an eyebrow or crossing her arms. This being said, as seconds ticked by without either of us making a movement, I whispered "I'm sorry" as if I truly believed this was all my fault. I reached for my sister's hand as we were ushered offstage- a gesture to show she wasn't alone in this; she clenched her fist and stared straight ahead as if she was the only person in the world.

Perhaps killing her wouldn't be so hard after all…

Oh dear God, what did I just say? If my feelings were like this before I'd even set foot out of my district, what type of person would I be once I was in the arena? _Once I was in the arena… _The reality of that statement stung me painfully and sent numbing chills throughout my body. Surely, I would no longer be Gavin Midman come a few days' time. Images of myself in the place of Tributes from previous Hunger Games, brutally strangling a frail boy, or stabbing a spear through someone's stomach, or delivering the death blow to my own sister played through my mind.

Surely, I would no longer be human.


	2. Chapter 2

Have you ever tried to fall asleep while walking? I doubt you have; it's stupid and ridiculous. But, in my situation, it's more of a hopeful action than a stupid one. Still ridiculous… But with legitimate intentions. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I was dreaming. If falling asleep allowed you to enter a dream, why shouldn't it also make you exit? So, as a mob of Peacekeepers marched me and my sister down toward District 12's Justice Building, I often closed my eyes tightly and attempted to slow my breathing and thoughts with the feeble hope that I'd wake up on the morning of the Reaping once again…

I received another sickening jolt of reality only when I was thrown into an empty room. Something in my head screamed the word "_RUN," _but I knew better. If there was one thing The Capitol saw to (and trust me, there was certainly more than one), it was that those "lucky" enough to be selected as Tributes _would not _find a way to weasel their way out of competing in the Games.

I didn't even realize how heavily I was breathing until the echo of the Peacekeepers' footsteps halted. Wow, I was practically PANTING. We didn't move _that _fast, did we? Then again, I suspect my troubled breathing wasn't due to a workout. Finally getting my breath under control (even though my heart was still hammering rapidly), I took a couple precarious steps across the heavy carpet toward a sofa in the back of the room. I sat upon it slowly and hesitantly, as if expecting any sudden movements to be the death of me. Oh, right. The Games hadn't begun yet. Well… The arena part hadn't, at least.

I'd never felt anything so rich in my life. This mysterious fabric resting underneath my hands felt like… Like… Gosh, I can't even describe it. It was soft- sort of like the lining in Father's prized rabbit skin boots- but the softness was more concentrated and smooth. My fingers absently ran little circles over the cushion until the room's door creaked open once more about 5 minutes later. My heart gave a little jolt- Peacekeepers again? But, no: it was my parents with the twins. Remarkable, really, how I would have felt no more relief if it _was _Peacekeepers.

My family members just stood staring at me for a few moments, the tension in the room so strong that you could almost reach out and touch it. I broke the silence with one of the only intelligible thoughts swarming in my head: "I wish we could have had some of this stuff back at home," I croaked, patting my seat. Mother let out a choked chuckle, dabbing at her already puffy eyes with the hem of her dress; I assume they'd already been to see my sister.

"Oh, sweetheart, _nobody _in this district could afford velvet," Mother murmured. Velvet, huh? I'd have to remember that if I made it out alive. Emphasis on the _if. _Okay, I actually don't think there's any possible way to put enough emphasis on that if.

"Oo gun win?" inquired one of my little brothers, both of whom were in Father's arms when they entered but were now standing by his feet. Well _that _was certainly a question that everyone in Panem would be asking: Are you gonna win. Not just about me, either.

"I… I don't know." But I _did _know. Anyone could foresee my fate at this point. The twins must have picked up on this, because they both burst into tears. Biting my lip gently, I got up from my comfortable seat (I shouldn't have let myself feel welcome on a piece of Capitol furniture, anyway) and kneeled in front of my brothers. I rested my hands on each of their cheeks. "Look, you two are gonna have to be men soon enough, okay? Be polite to Mother and Father, do good in school, get big and strong…" Like a couple of 2 year olds were going to take in any of that.

Still, they both managed to reduce their sobbing to mere sniffles. "Won oo eva see us be all gwown up?" one of them whispered.

"…I'll try." There. _That _was honest.

Oh, wonderful. Another moment of awkward silence. Didn't they realize that this was the last they'd see of me? …Didn't they care? Before I could get too distressed over the matter, Father pulled something out of his pants pocket.

"The Tributes… They're allowed to bring a token to the arena with them. A little something to help them remember their family or district. So…" He glanced away, almost in embarrassment. "Here." Sitting in his coal-blackened palm was a wooden queen chess piece. My eyes widened slightly. Every time I asked either of my parents why we could never use the chess set on a shelf in our living room, their excuse was always that the pieces were "too fragile." So what was my dad doing, giving me one of them to take with me to a fight to the death?

I leisurely reached out a slightly shaking hand to retrieve the item. It was sort of dusty, the wood splintering just a bit since the last time it had been polished was 40 some years ago when it was made. There was something… unusual, about its weight. The word I was looking for suddenly clicked in my mind. "It's hollow," I said aloud. Very gently, as if the slightest movement would break it into a million pieces, I gave it a little shake. "What's in there…?"

"Just a rock. I've no idea why your grandfather made it that way," Father answered rather quickly. He sounded almost unnerved, but before I could question why that was, Peacekeepers were opening the door again and announcing that our time was up. Fresh tears leaked out of Mother's eyes like a waterfall and she dotted my face with kisses.

"Please, honey, win, you have to live, _please try to win!_ A-at the very least, help your sister stay alive!" she shrieked. But a pair of Peacekeepers now had her by the arms and were dragging her away, totally unfazed by her hysteria. I felt my veins turn icy as I acknowledged that she was displaying a perfect image of how I was gradually feeling. How long until I snapped? Or would I have to keep it all bottled up inside…?

As it turned out, those were my only visitors. You can barely imagine how immensely lonely that made me feel. It was a little reassuring, being sure that at least some selected Tributes surely had had _no _visitors… But just a little. If anything, really, it increased the morose emotions swirling inside of me.

I'm reunited with my sister when we're both ushered into a car. A car… I'd never been inside one before. Actually, I'd never been in _any _vehicle before. At first, I suppose it was kind of cool; after a few seconds, it just made me feel trapped and claustrophobic. The fact that Holly simply stared out the window throughout the entire short duration of the ride, refusing to make eye contact with me for even a second, just made matters worse. Why did Mother's last request to me have to be to keep _her _alive? I could barely believe that I was sitting there contemplating how guilty I'd feel if I let her die anyway.

The train station was packed with reporters, obviously from the Capitol judging by the quality of their clothing. Their cameras, all following my and Holly's every restricted step, vaguely reminded me of insects. Except that it's possible to feel at least sort of comfortable when in the presence of insects.

You would think Holly had been doing this her entire life. She kept a totally blank (or perhaps annoyed, if anything) expression on her face, staring straight ahead the whole time. I, on the other hand, couldn't help from glancing around at every single angle I could crane my neck. I'm fairly certain that each and every one of the cameras caught at least a second of the frantic look on my face. Yeah, _that _would be good for my reputation.

We managed to make our way through a split in the mass of cameramen and women in less than a couple minutes. At first, I wondered why the train's doors didn't immediately close upon us stepping us, but I quickly realized that the pause was giving the cameras another opportunity to capture images of us. I offer a feeble, extremely fake smile to the crowd; Holly turns her back on them.

After a final array of flashes, the doors close, and the train shoots off toward the Capitol. There's no point in attempting to fall asleep again; even though I'm awake, this is all still but a nightmare.


End file.
